Paying a Price
by blahblahturtle
Summary: To have a second chance to live, Holy Roman Empire must give up the one thing he loves: his memories of Italy. Will they ever come back?  It gets better as it goes on, trust me.  Based off of the Germany is Holy Roman Empire theory.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This is just a FANmade story, so the characters do not belong to me! Let the story begin! :D  
**

**Also, this is slightly (*cough*a lot*cough*) based off of "Makka No Ito" by Plastic Trees. Haven't heard it? Go hear it! **

**POV: Holy Roman Empire **

* * *

_In the glass sky, a great typhoon's coming, with a terrible wind  
If that's all, hey we have reason to smile, cause we're together_

_There was light everywhere and I couldn't see  
What's this...that spills from my eyes?_

_Goodbye _

_

* * *

_

"I will not accept defeat!" shouted France, slashing his sword against mine. The sparks were flying like orange daggers streaking towards me. As men around us fell into Death's open arms, I felt to do the same. My strength was depleting after fighting for so long... I wasn't sure if I could last much longer.

Only the thought of coming home to Italy kept me going.

I couldn't back down now, after all of this time of struggling against this French bastard. I thought of her brown hair drifting easily in the spring breeze. Her smile, whiter than any pearl could dream of being, lighting up my thoughts. Seeing her face... my heart began to ache –

What made it worse was the sudden sword piercing through it.

"Y-You-! D-Damnit!" I hissed as the enemy nation slowly twisted through my chest, all air escaping my lungs. The only thing I could feel was pain, blazing up my spine like wildfire. I couldn't speak or think, the wound blinding me maliciously. "Bastard!"

"You have seen your last hour, Holy Rome!" France cackled, "This is the end of the Holy Roman Empite!" He thrusted the blade deeper, impaling me even farther than I thought he would. Even though my life was fleeting from my body, the only one I thought about was Italy.

The promise...

I promised her I would be back...

My sight was beginning to blur. "N-No.." I sighed weakly, blood retreating quickly from my viens, "Italy..." I was unsure if the blood-loss was making me delusional or not, but I saw a flicker of remorse flash by in the Frenchman's blue orbs. Hastily, he slid the sword out of my chest, letting me collapse in the warm, reddened grass.

"I'll take care of Italy." He whispered before leaving me here to die.

That really pissed me off. "You bastard!" I shouted with all of the energy I had left, tears like waterfalls spilling from my eyes, whose sight was suddenly lost.

Then the world went black.

_Italy..._

_I love you so much..._

_Please... give me a second chance..._

_I want to see you again..._

As I lie here begging; praying for a second chance, suddenly I see wings.

"You want to see her again?" asks the owner of those wings. I assumed it was an angel of death coming to take me to where I deserved to go.

"Y...Yes.."I mange to croak. The only thing I could see was the wings, glowing like finely polished gold against the blackness of death. I couldn't see the owner.

"I have seen your future, and you do get to see Italy again." said the voice in what I believed to be a British accent.

"Really?" I ask, hope sprouting in my chest. To see her smile, her tears, her hair, her eyes... I'd do anything, pay any price –

"But there is something you must do for me. You must forget this life and I shall bless you anew." He requested.

Forget this life... would that mean I would forget everything...?

Even her?

I feel tears slip down my cheeks at the thought. Maybe in this new life we would meet again. I would have to fall in love with her again.

That wouldn't be too hard, would it? She's so beautiful and lovable that falling in love with her would be as easy as walking.

"Yes. But may I request something?" I ask.

"Hm? What would it be?" he responds, his face coming into view. My eyes flew to his huge eyebrows -one raised from perplexity- and through his messy blonde hair. His emerald orbs were soft yet shot through me like daggers (an experience I would never like to feel again).

"Change my fate so that I will be with Italy again! Please!" I cry out, my limbs suddenly going numb. His lips thinned into a fine smile.

"You will be, with my power added or not, young one." He smirked.

I sighed with relief. I could see his figure now, it being wrapped in a white toga. It glowed, making him more angelic than he had appeared before.

"_Heaven and Hell_

_Back hands away_

_Make the broken well_

_Let the soul come back and stay._

_Start anew and _

_Clear the fire_

_No longer shall you be_

_The Holy Roman Empire"_

As he chanted the spell, I felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. My mind felt elevated and my body went sweetly numb. I smiled and closed my eyes, letting pleasure succumb me. Then my memories kissed me goodbye one by one.

That was the last time I would see Italy for a while.

* * *

**Yaaaay! I was bored, so I decided to do this! Love HRE and Chibitalia so much! :D  
**

**Blahblahturtle OUT~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go with Chapter 2!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia or any characters in it!**

**POV: Chibitalia/Italy**

* * *

_What's this...that spills from my eyes?_

_Goodbye ah~_

_My love for you is tied to my heart_  
_By a crimsom thread_  
_It's broken ah_  
_Magic has broken it,_  
_Can I walk on my own?_

_~()~  
_

"Now go clean the hallway floors." Austria ordered, pointing at one of the near hallways. Ever since Holy Rome had left, Mr. Austria was left demanding. I wonder why...?

"Yessir!" I squeaked in my high voice.

As told, I waltzed to the closet and grabbed the mop, humming an old tune Grandpa Rome had taught me. I began to dance, imagining the mop as Holy Roman Empire, dreaming it to soon be him when he came back. My dress flowed under me, making the room feel slightly breezy as I twirled the mop in my hands, scrubbing the floor without a care in the world. Then reality struck me.

Would he come back?

_Of course he would!,_ I thought to myself,_ Holy Rome is very strong, so he'll be alright... I hope. _Sudden images flashed through my head of him being stabbed and beaten like an unforgiving lightning strike. Pressing my hands to my head, as if to keep my head from exploding, I shook, heart breaking from the thoughts.

_Stop thinking like this!_ I shouted mentally, _Stop it! _

Suddenly, my body went numb and cold. I couldn't move, but yet I could still stand. I couldn't even blink.

Then the world went black.

_What's happening to me? Did I just die?_ I thought. I couldn't see anything, not even the mop I was clinging desperately to for support. Tears slid down my cheeks as my knees gave out. I felt as if the world had flipped upside down then and there.

Suddenly, there was a white flash illuminating my sight, then blinding me completely. Then my eyes focused on something I couldn't comprehend:

A red string.

Just dangling in the center of my vision was a red string. Had I suddenly gone insane with the thought of heartbreak? I didn't know what I was supposed to do. When I reached out to grab it, the string scooted backwards, as if it was afraid. Raising an eyebrow, I took a step towards it and reached out again. Again, it cautiously fled the space. Soon enough, the string and I were in pursuit.

From the whiteness, a winged figure formed behind the string and caught it with ease. I recognized it as a male from the voice of what I thought was an incantation.

"_Heaven and Hell_

_Back hands away_

_Make the broken well_

_Let the soul come back to stay._

_By paying a price_

_Clear the fire_

_No longer shall you have_

_The Holy Roman Empire"_ He whispered, a golden pair of scissors materializing in his hand.

"D-Don't do it!" I squeaked, running to him, hoping to be acknowledged.

Ignored, the angelic figure closed the scissors and snipped the red string, making it dissolve at my feet.

I screamed.

I felt as if the scissors had sliced my heart. I fell to the ground as if the world was upon my shoulders with a merciless weight of agony.

I was broken.

~()~

When I came to, I was in Austria's arms, being cooed and soothed too. He kissed my forehead and hummed a lullaby he played on the piano for me when I was feeling down. The effort was in vain, the only thing I could do was cry that name that was tattooed on my heart and mind. "_H-Holy Rome! Holy Rome! No, Holy Rome!_" I whimpered, burying my head into Austria's shirt and staining it with tears. I couldn't stop crying no matter how hard I tried. "Hush, Italy." He sighed.

It was one of the very few times he was actually nice to me. I don't know why. Was it the topic of Holy Roman Empire that made him tense? I never figured it out.

~()~

I jolted up from the mattress, the world forming from the black. My sight was blurred even though my brown eyes were as wide as they could be. I felt the cold sweat on my bare chest which rose and fell swiftly. I put a hand to my head, rubbing away the pain. To think that I had forgotten that day I felt my universe flip inside-out... it always came back.

It was always there to rip at me. To remind me to never throw my heart all out at once.

To my left, I saw Germany asleep. His blue orbs were covered by his pale lids, and his blonde locks were ruffled in a mess which actually looked great on him -not that his slicked hairstyle was bad or anything! He looked peaceful.

Usually he was stressed. I'm not always sure with what exactly, but he was always tense, as if he was walking on a sheet of glass. One wrong move and he would descend –

_Enough's enough, isn't it?_ Said a voice that sounded all too familiar. A squeak slipped out of my lips.

"Italy?" moaned a groggy Germany, unexpectedly awoken by my noise. I threw my palms at my mouth, hoping to silence myself. I felt hot tears falling onto my hands. It was then I realized I had begun to cry. How could one voice cause so much hurt?

_I've watched over you for so long. Enough is enough._

"Italy, are you alright?" the man next to me asked, placing a large hand on my shoulder. I barely noticed him lightly shaking me. "Italy, speak to me."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" I asked out loud.

"Are you alright?" Germany said, voice becoming concerned. The voice remained silent.

"What? Oh.. s-sorry," I coughed, drying my eyes, " I didn't mean to wake you. It was just a nightmare. Sorry..." I fell back onto my spine, allowing the sheets to catch me. Germany gave me a it's-not-just-that-is-it look. I saw his cheeks turn red as our eyes locked. I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his undershirt-bearing chest. "G-Germany?" I asked, utterly amazed by the sudden motion. He never liked it when I hugged him myself! Why was he suddenly-?

"J-Just go to sleep." He said to me.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated in forever! I've been super busy writing for a project (which will not be released until it is finished) that involves Hetalia and ZOMBIES. That's right. I SAID ZOMBIES. Look for me on dA and YouTube to find out more!**

**Anyways, there's still some more story to tell! Reviews are GREATLY appreciated! **

**I EDITED THE LAST PARAGRAPH. :D  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, last chapter went a little fast, sorry about that. Writing in first person is out of my comfort zone, so sorry if it seemed awkward and too fast/slow. I'm not gonna write in first person anymore! :D**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine! I don't get why people put these things here anyway if this is FANfiction. F-A-N fiction.**

**Let Chapter 3 begin~!**

The next morning was very slow. Germany -as always- woke up first and prepared a small breakfast and coffee for the two. He had gotten used to Italy's surprise visits, so he made sure to buy at least a few things that Italy's gourmet mouth liked. The blonde heard enough whining during training.

Slightly dazed from the sudden morning, Italy stumbled down the staircase, desperately imagining the warmth of Germany's arms around him. It was strange -even though the younger nation wasn't complaining- of him to move in such away; to use a sudden, affectionate motion. Why had Germany done that? He shrugged to himself at the base of the stairs, mind left wondering.

"Good morning, Germany~!" Italy cooed from the doorway, stepping lightly into the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast catching his nose. Germany jumped, almost knocking over his cup of coffee. His face was tinted pink.

"_Guten morgen,_" he greeted in his stern voice, "Did you sleep well?"

"_Si!_"Italy chirped, sliding in his chair, "I liked it when Germany held me!" In response, the nation coughed and turned, obviously hiding an embarrassed blush. For some reason, Italy failed to notice.

"Why did Germany do that?"

"Enough fooling around," Germany scoffed, changing the subject completely, "There's a world meeting today."

"Ve~? Ohh, I remember now!" Italy exclaimed.

~()~

The car ride was silent, but it provided time to think. As Germany gripped the wheel he asked himself everything. Why did he, a stern soldier, feel the need to embrace Italy? Why did the sudden urge surface? Why did he do it? Maybe he didn't like to see Italy cry. _That's not right,_ he thought, _the kid bawls his eyes out every day at training when I threaten to take away his pasta!_ But then another thought popped in his mind.

Those tears were different in every way a tear can be from another, purpose-wise. Those tears that flood from his forever closed eyes are ones of shallowness. They aren't serious in the slightest. But the drips from last night were on the other side of the emotional spectrum. These tears were ones of absolute fear and pain; treacherous and mourning. Germany disapproved of those tears. If he could, he would ban them from setting one salty foot on his Ally's cheeks.

That lead him to believe that the only way to prevent the tears from falling was contact; something Italy does all of the time.

Before he could interrogate himself any further, the car had reached its destination: the [pointless] World Meeting.

~()~

This [pointless] Meeting was just like any other; unproductive, constantly irrelevant, senseless. America and England were chewing each other out, then setting aside their differences for about ten or twenty seconds to beat the French out of France. Then Russia would hover over a crying Latvia while Belarus held Lithuania hostage. Of course, Poland would totes come in to like, save his BFFL or else Russia's capital is gonna like, become Warsaw. This would only cause Germany's headache to increase and his anger morph into a time bomb. At any second, the personified nation would explode with rage.

Italy ignored every single moment of it.

He would relax in his chair and nap the argument away unless called upon by his best friend. Today was slightly different. He didn't relax or nap. He just thought. Why was that dream coming back? That horrible memory already haunted him enough during the day, while he stared straight into the eyes of a man that represented his late lover so incredibly much. It wasn't fair. The boy's voice echoed in his ears, a whisper only available to Italy alone. The string was a burning red string of flame that etched into his sight, reminding him of his pain. Yet he still smiled.

He smiled for his brother, Romano, who would smack him upside the head if he let the memories faze him. He smiled for his friends, Japan, America, Prussia, Spain, France, Poland, everyone, so that they wouldn't worry about his silly little problems. Most of all, he smiled for Germany. He couldn't understand why Germany was placed in a separate category, but he was.

What perplexed him the most was the voice of the angelic figure that spoke to him _after_ he woke up. It was stranger than the time that he woke up with a meatball in his hair after one of Prussia's "AWESOMENESS" parties. (He didn't have pasta at the party! What a shame...) Why was the angel suddenly calling out to him? And what in the world did "Enough is enough" mean? His mind was boggled by this.

"Enough is enough, right Germany?" Italy caught England murmur to Germany. He had somewhat of a gentle, playful smile on his face. He had no clue what England was trying to do. Was he about to start a fight with Germany? Italy froze, mind making a connection. The voices sounded so..._similar._

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you want me to shut them up?" Germany asked, a blonde eyebrow raised in suspicious confusion. In return, England's large eyebrows shot up in amusement along with a chuckle. "That wasn't intended, but yes." The Briton's emerald eyes flashed across the room to Italy's eavesdropping face. _You know what I mean, right?_ They said in silence.

"Do you know Prussia's number? I need to make a call." asked England.

~()~

England scurried out into the hall, far from the meeting hall. Where was a bloody telephone booth when you need one? Better yet, where was Prussia when you needed him? His expedition was a success when he spotted a black phone on one of the small tables. A shame Prussia lost his nation-hood. With agility, he entered the ex-nation's number.

"Hey, you called for awesomeness?" Prussia answered on the first ring.

"Do you wait for your phone to ring? That just sounds pathetic." England sneered at his arrogance.

"I just answer awesomely fast!"

"Whatever, wanker. My time is almost up."

"What do you mean, like, are you gonna die or something?" Prussia asked in disbelief.

"No! The magic, idiot! It's bound to run out. You know the rule, Prussia: If it runs out before I can end it, it may physically damage your brother. I'm coming over after the meeting."

"Oh, awesome. So I want to guess America doesn't mind missing out on some awesome making out or something today?" Prussia snickered. England's face burned brick red.

"Shut up, git! That is none of your business!"

"Funny how you didn't deny it."

"Shut it! Anyways, it's already starting to take effect on Italy. I'm at my limit here, Prussia. Let me break the seal." England stated. The other end of the line was silent.

_Aww! This isn't fair! I don't have enough time to be awesome and woo little Italy! Once his memory comes back, I'm screwed!_ But it was for his brother's health. And Italy's.

_DAMN IT._

"Do what you have to do." Prussia sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks everyone for the reviews. If the last chapter was strange in wording and whatnot, I did that at 11:00pm, on 2 HOURS of sleep. (And I ran/walked 7.3 miles! Woohoo~) I promise this chapter will be much better!**

**Yes, there was a little of the one-sided PrussiaxItaly. I do like that pairing, and I had just heard the "Diary of the Awesome Me", so I figured, hey, why not? To me, the pairing needs a little more love, one-sided or not. (Even though, I am more of a PrussiaxCanada fan.)**

**Enough of the last one, now to CHAPTER 4~! **

* * *

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" England jumped when he opened the door, welcomed by a sonic boom of Germany's bark. Why did this happen every time? Either way, the world listened. As Germany continued, England took his seat. He felt a nudge to his side, glancing at a curious America. _What was that about? _His cerulean orbs asked. England glared, hoping that the young nation would get that is was none of his business. He mouthed along as Germany ranted the same words he did every time the hopeless group spun out of control.

"...Now if anyone has anything to say, raise your hand. 8minutes for speeches, and absolutely NO TALKING." After the echo faded off, everyone shifted their eyes to Italy, who _always _said something after Germany yelled.

No one knew why it was silent.

England began to stare. The northern half of Italy just sat in his seat, gazing off into the great beyond, mind absent to the obvious disputes around him. What was strange was that his eyes, usually shut, were lazily open (His eye color being revealed to the world!). The brown orbs didn't shine; they were as dull as a pencil after a 200 question test. The nation's face was innocent and serious. He looked as though he was a sculpture model.

He was quiet and serious. _Italy_ was quiet and serious. "Woah, 2012 come early or something?" America asked bluntly, earning a thump on his head by England. "You idiot!" England snapped. He turned his gaze back to Italy.

"Ita-chan~, are you okay?" Spain chimed in, shining his ever-so-happy smile that almost never faltered. Italy didn't move. _Damnit! The magic is already taking its course! The memories are about to come back on their own. _England thought, jumping out of his chair. "I have to leave on urgent business!" He shouted, sprinting to the door.

"You can't just leave-" America whined.

"It's life-threatening!" England responded as he flew through the exit. This case wasn't fatal -even though it was lethal-, it just effected life-style. He slid into his car and drove like a madman to Prussia's half of Germany's house.

* * *

England didn't wait for the door to open before stomping in. "We're nearly too late, idiot!" He barked at the suddenly perplexed Prussian. He raised an eyebrow and scratched his silvery white head. "What do you mean? And don't yell so loud, I'm on an awesome hangover..."

"Italy's becoming infected. From what I've seen, he's starting a stage of depression." England stated, recalling the abnormally dull look in the nation's muddy eyes.

"Well damn! Italy, depressed? That's serious."

"Exactly. Now give me permission to break the seal." England glared. His thick eyebrows quivered in anxiety. Only God knew what was to happen if the duo was too late to break the charm. "Why do you need _my _permission to do something like that? You're magical, right? So why can't you just do it on your own?"

"It's a difficult concept to explain," the blonde snapped, then attempted to explain the situation in words that the 'awesome-Gilbo' could understand, "Let's see. Since you hired me to save him when he was young, you have to end my services. The magical realm is very strict on that. 'You make rubbish, you clean rubbish' is what they tell me. Those damn pixies bossing me around, and then that unicorn just LOVES to rub it in, and..." the magician began to ramble about his invisible creatures pestering him.

"Okay, you're imaginary friends are a pain in the ass." Prussia interrupted. He couldn't believe that this whack-job was going to save his brother's life. Suddenly, the blonde silenced himself and folded his arms and asked, " Do you happen to have something from back then and a red string?"

* * *

"Italy, are you alright?" Japan squeaked to the Northen half of Italy after the meeting had disbanded. The young nation just sat there and looked out the window, unamused by the clouds drifting lazily in the blue sky. Suddenly, his head twitched to the side and looked at Japan as if he was some sort of strange creature. "Ve~ When did you get here Nihon?" He asked with a half smile.

"I've been here. Italy-kun, are you having economic problems?" Japan inquired. It was odd that Italy hadn't spoke a word since the meeting had started or ended -except for now. The boy shook his head and stared up at Japan."Is there any Japanese legend that talks about a red string? I don't know of one in Italy..." He asked with pleading eyes, in hopes of finding an answer.

"A red string? Yes, there is one old tale about it. If you and your true lover ever find each other, a red string is formed. No matter how far apart the two of you would be, you can still see it." Japan told.

"And what if it was to break?"

"A-Ano.. it's not a real string, Italy-kun. It's just a metaphor." Japan added.

"But what if it was a real string and it was cut?" Italy asked.

"Well, I guess that person was to have not been your real lover. Or that person died. Hm? Italy-kun, what's with that look?" Japan raised an eyebrow. Italy was starring at him as if something bizarre had occurred behind him. To be sure, the elder nation swiftly glanced behind him. To Japan's surprise, Italy jumped from his seat and sprinted towards the door. "I-Italy-kun?"

"I'm sorry! I have to go!" He squeaked as he ran out the door.

This wasn't fair! It wasn't right! Holy Roman Empire couldn't be dead, could he? He recalled upon a time that France had told him otherwise. _"The Holy Roman Empire is no more,"_ he had been told. Even though Italy had nodded his innocent head at the time, he never chose to believe it. He never had, and never will believe that the Holy Roman Empire was gone. Of course, he lost his nationality, but the physical person could not have died, right? Prussia had lost his nationality ages ago, and he was still alive and standing! This wasn't right!

_I'm so confused. I'm so confused! What's going on? Why doesn't anything add up? Where's the connections? My head hurts horribly and I don't know where I am or where I'm going? What's happening to me all of the sudden? Why am I like this? What happened to me?_ The young nation couldn't grasp what was happening. It seemed as though God had grabbed the world and flipped it upside down and put it in a blender. Soon enough, the world around him melted together, all of the colors distorting and mixing. He smashed his hands to his ears, hoping that his head wouldn't explode. That same head was pounding like mad, thoughts racing a mile a minute. He couldn't see the city anymore, his eyes were squeezed shut. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, pounding against the hard concrete, one foot after another. He couldn't even hear the shouting Germany behind him, chasing him down.

"Italy! Stop it Italy! You're going to hit someone!" Germany roared, efforts in vain. The other nation couldn't hear him, for the blood was pounding through his ears.

Then the world stopped spinning. Italy could see, feel, hear. Then the colors darkened until he was engulfed in nothing but black. He felt his head smack against the sidewalk, feet slipping under him. The last thing he head before he lost consciousness was a cry from Germany. It wasn't of anger, but of fear.

**Dramatic~! Wow, I never thought that this fic was going to last so long. I had only intended this to be a one-shot, but oh well! Reviews and such are greatly appreciated! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wowzers, Chapter 5? Awesome~**

**Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews and such! School's been a real pain in the ass, so seeing the reviews, story alerts, favorite stories, and especially the favorite authors, made me so happy! Thank you! It really made my day! :)**

**Anyways, DISCLAIMER: Hetalia ain't mine. None of the characters are either. I wish. So hard... xD**

* * *

Prussia almost jumped a mile in the air when he heard his phone screech "I'M AWESOME!" from his back pocket, breaking the intense silence England needed to make this magical thing-a-ma-jig work. England fell over in sudden shock. "W-What the bloody hell was that!" he yelped, placing his candles back in perfect position.

"My phone. Hm? I got a text.. from West? Wow, so the kid figured out how to work his phone, huh?" Prussia scoffed, amused by the arrival of a message from his brother. England's furry eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "Don't you think something is wrong with that? Check it, idiot!" the blonde snapped.

_This is Germany. Italy collapsed._

_I'll be home late. Don't break anything. -Germany_

"Woah, woah, woah! England, you better do something uh, _now,_" Prussia squawked, "Italy collapsed."

"Damnit! Screw these bloody candles!" England sighed, smacking all of the unlit candles aside, thudding like dominoes against the hardwood floor.

"You mean those were just decorations?" Prussia asked, perturbed by the unnecessary decor.

"Shut it and get me the red string!" England barked. For once, the other nation did what he had been told without question. His red eyes questioned the just as red string. "So what's this thing for, anyway? Some sort of strange voodoo or something?" the ex-nation asked. It was peculiar to have something so simple at such an important time.

"Well, it's more of a symbol. There is a legend that I had taken from when I had blessed Holy- I mean, Germany. Some traders from Japan told it to me once that a red string connects two soul mates. I used it. Don't give me that look, git!" England glared.

"Man, England, you're sissier than I thought. 'Soulmates'? That sounds like something out of a cheap romance novel or-"

"We don't have time for that! Just give me the damn string." England spat. He snatched the thread from the albino's hands and added, "This magic will take a while since it is so ancient. Be prepared."

Lightning cracked like a whip in the sky. As if in pain, the clouds began to cry rain from the strike.

~()~

"WHAT. THE. HELL. DID. YOU. _DO_?" Romano screeched when he opened the door to a soaked potato-sucker holding his lifeless-looking brother. He was furious. Not only did the sight of Germany rub him the wrong way, seeing his brother beat up did as well. The icing on the cake was Germany _holding_ him. His cursing was muffled by the boom of thunder.

He wanted to let out a cry at the sight of his brother, but stifled it down his dry throat. Italy resembled a broken porcelain doll. His usually tan skin was pale except for the flurry of bruises along his cheekbone. A thin trail of crimson crawled over the center of his forehead followed by a river of blood pouring from the left side. He was covered in mud and was soaked by the rain. Even his usually lively curl drooped. Broken.

"I didn't do a thing. He ran out of the Meeting Hall and collapsed," Germany began, "I was too far to catch him, so I picked him up and took him here. His head is scratched, not cracked. There were some rocks that could have made the deeper cuts."

"Well don't just stand there in the damn rain! Get in here, bastardo! He'll get sick because of you." Romano snapped. His green eyes gleamed in hatred. Even with his brother like this, he still couldn't not hate the German. Reluctantly, Germany followed the older Italian inside, tracking mud on the wooden floors. ("You're cleaning that up later!") Going up the staircase wasn't too difficult for Germany; Italy was light and he himself was muscular due to training. He set Veneziano on the bed, not caring if the sheets became stained. "We should get him out of those clothes. He's soaked." Germany suggested.

"You're such a damn pervert, potato-bastard!" Romano slapped the back of Germany's head.

"W-What? I'm not being a pervert. When a soldier is down and wet, someone changes them to warm them up." He retaliated. The back of his blonde head now stung.

( _Heaven and Hell _) An image flashed in his mind. He staggered back.

_(Back hands away) _"You're so weak! I didn't hit you that hard." Romano scoffed. An angel appeared, garnished in light. His face was blocked by the rays.

_(Make the broken well) _There was a voice. It was familiar. It sounded like England's in a way, but it was different. He pressed his hands to his head. The voice was annoying.

_(Let the soul come back to stay.) "_What the hell is wrong with you?" Romano poked the other nation's forehead. Germany shook his head. It didn't hurt him at all, but this voice was a nuisence.

_(By paying a price) _Was there an angel in the room? Or was it a demon? What was he talking about? Paying a Price... He.. Germany paid for something. He had a feeling it wasn't with money.

_(Clear the fire-)_

Italy jerked in the sheets -still in his soggy clothes- breaking the German's thoughts. The voice fadded along with the angelic figure as well. His brother twitched as well. "What the hell? Did he just have a muscle spasm just now?" Romano said out loud. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Italy's body shook again vigorously for a longer period. Once it stopped, Germany was at his side, rubbing his shoulder. "Italy! Get up!" he shouted at the young nation.

~()~

"So why am I still here?" Prussia asked, sitting on the outskirts of the chalk circle. He felt like some sort of Dungeons and Dragons nerd, drawing chalk circles and symbols in his basement. _This guy's so weird.._ Prussia thought. "I need you to break the seal at the very end," England murmured, determined not to fully lose his concentration, "so you need to stay here."

"How the Hell am I supposed to do that?" the ex-nation inquired aloud. There was no response. The wood of his basement began to burn to an uncomfortable red, like the boards were infected with a rash. Magical dust particles scattered in the air. Red orbs widened, witnessing the event. The scarlet floor began to pulse, increasing its brightness with every beat. The circle and symbols engraved with the chalk shone orange like the sun.

Suddenly, the colors burst, throwing England a few feet in the air with a "What the-?" and a crash to the now brown floor. "What was that?" asked Prussia, slightly disturbed by the mishap.

"I think there's a disturbance. Something is blocking from your brother's mind."

"Probably that hard head of his." Prussia scoffed.

"No! There's something else," England spat, "Something.. Did anything happen to Italy after the meeting?" he turned, raising an furry eyebrow.

"Well, West just texted me saying that Italy had collapsed. Do you think that he's getting effected by this magic stuff too?" Prussia wondered. He also wanted to know why Italy had collapsed, but this was only a hypothesis. Was England's magic truly that powerful to take down an entire country? "Dude, this magic is dangerous. You can't just take down an entire country with a little hocus-pocus –"

"The landmasses aren't the ones in pain," England argued. Hesitantly, he added, " it's their human personalities that are damaged. Germany and Italy have nothing to do with this. It's Feliciano and Ludwig that need our help now." The blonde nation's green eyes were shadowed. Prussia was silent, sober as he could ever be.

"Let's start again. This time, sit with me." England positioned himself in the center of the circle, but scooted to the side some, allowing room for the ex-nation to sit beside him. Doing so, he said, "What do I do?"

"Just be quiet. Concentrate on getting into your brother's head. If you succeed, tell him to open his mind to everything. I'll focus on Italy." He instructed.

"...Awesome...!" Prussia added, earning a slap to the back of the head.

"Shut up wanker, and focus!"

~()~

_Italy...!_

He was running. The world was black around him, but he sprinted anyway. He had no clue where he was going or why, but his legs carried him farther and farther, pursuing the darkness. The Italian felt as though he was in training, sprinting his laps as Germany instructed him to, only this dash was different.

(_...red string..._)

Desperation. It was a run out of desperation. There was something off balance in his mind, and he needed to fix it. Was that it? Reasoning masked a deeper meaning, he was sure of it. He heard the sound of scissors slicing their blades against each other, a sound that made the hair on the back of his neck shoot up.

(_… no longer shall you have..._)

This was a nightmare! His eyes, they refused to open! He was trapped in this insanity, and he couldn't escape. He let out an ear piercing cry. Where was everyone? What's happening? Why couldn't he wake up?

_Italy! Can you hear me?_

A voice...? Why did this voice sound so familiar? He froze in mid-step. He couldn't move his legs or arms. His run was in pause, motion impossible. Nothing was working. Wave after wave of panic rushed over him. Suddenly, he dropped to the "ground". He couldn't see anything. Laying still in this blackness was his only option. There was nothing he could do.

_Italy, it's England! Get up!_

England?

Did he really just hear _England _talking to him? "I want to get out of here..." Italy coughed.

_I know you do. You can if you listen to me._ England's disembodied voice told him. Italy shook his head. Germany had taught him to never listen to the blonde.

_Stop ignoring me and listen, you twat! The only way to get out of this nightmare is to listen to me! Now get up, or else you'll be locked in this world forever! _He hissed, being overly dramatic. Those words made Italy shoot up from more terror than attention.

_Do you remember a long time ago? When you were still in Austria's house? _The older nation asked. Italy nodded, images of his younger days flashing in his eyes. Most of them were him either cleaning in Austria's house -wearing the maid dress- or of him with Holy Roman Empire. His heart began to ache at the sight of him. Suddenly, he began to see images of the dream; the red string, the strange light, the angel, all of it. It was if he was back in that twisted nightmare. Again, he stood in front of the angel holding the red string.

The strange thing this time was that the angel had a face. It did have one before, but this time he had recognized it as England. "W-What...? England?"

"Yes, it's me, git. Come here," England sighed, extending an arm to the Italian. He raised an eyebrow at the winged man, but grasped his hand anyway. As their palms made contact, the floor disappeared, and they began to fly. "Italy, I have news that will be hard to accept. Open your mind to any and all possibilities. I'll do the rest."


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright.. I got a 6th chapter going on. Awesome!**

**To all the anxious readers, I'm really sorry that I've been unable to update this. I've gotten a life, somehow. XD**

**Discalimers: These characters aren't mine. :P**

* * *

Italy tossed and turned as if he was having some sort of nightmare that he couldn't escape from. What was going on? Germany was beginning to panic. "Italy, you better wake up or else you won't have any pasta for the rest of the month!" He boomed, his voice was louder than normal from worry. Romano covered his ears from the volume and hissed a wild string of curses under his breath.

Silence.

With his large hands, Germany began to shake Italy, hoping to wake him from his tormenting dreams. Lightning flashed from outside as he shouted, "Wake up, right now!" He stopped when a small hand clutched onto his shoulder and tugged him back, parting him from the younger Italian.

"Just give up, already, potato-sucker. He collapsed out of nowhere and started shaking like this, there's no damn way that he's just sleeping!" Romano barked.

"Is that all you two ever do? Just give up? Is that it?" Germany inquired out of frustration, "Why don't you two ever _try_? I'm not going to give up on this, Romano. I have to -" He stopped himself when he heard the sheets stop ruffling.

The brunette had frozen in the bed, as still as a corpse. Both Romano's and Germany's eyes widened. The blonde was going to run toward his companion's side when a familiar voice broke through his head. _Hey, West! Wassup?_Prussia's voice drawled, causing Germany's eyebrow to twitch in annoyance. Then his eyebrows shot up. He turned around and scanned the room. "Are you hearing voices or something? You look paranoid. Damn weird-ass Germans..." Romano muttered.

_Hey, can't hang for long, West, but I just gotta tell you to open up your hard-head. You better do it or else things won't get awesome._ Ja, that was Prussia alright. Germany decided to take a chance and think back, though this was the weirdest thing that he'd ever do. _And how am I supposed to do that?_

_I dunno. Just do it! Gotta go, we're gonna try and fix this, West, don't worry!_ Prussia was even louder through his thoughts than he was out loud. It gave the blonde a pounding headache. We? Who did he mean by "we"? His thought process was disturbed by a sudden gasp from the up-and-about Italian. "Ay! Feliciano!" Romano squeaked, his tone was one of being worried sick. That caught Germany's attention. He turned to see Romano placing his ear to his little brother's chest.

Why was it still?

Was he not breathing?

Germany's world began to crumble from there.

~()~

Italy let out a gasp when he and the angel finally landed. "He... he's...?" The speechless boy couldn't find the right words for such an odd situation. England's story was a complete curve-ball thrown straight at his now confused head. The bushy-browed man nodded somberly.

"Yes. Germany was the Holy Roman Empire."

The boy was still as he allowed the words to sink in. It was him. It was Germany all along. The one thing he had been looking for for so many centuries had been right under his nose this whole time. He began to think of all the years that the two had spent together, and how they could've been spent if Italy had only known. His heart was breaking from the mass of wasted time.

Anger filled the cracks.

"Why...?" Italy mumbled.

"What?"

"Why didn't he tell me? Why wouldn't he tell me? If Holy Rome really loved me, if _Germany_ really cared about me, he would've told me, wouldn't he?" Italy shouted, tears threatening to stream from his eyes. England raised a thick eyebrow.

"That's my fault." England admitted. "Don't blame him for this bloody mess."

Italy recalled the other nation's story. His heart felt empty. Defeated.

Hopeless.

"I need to wake up." Italy stated. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to shoot up and pull Germany into his arms. He longed for the German's embrace, his warmth, everything. Italy wanted to see those eyes.. those ones that he saw every day back in the 900s. Would they be the same? Would they have changed? Had the many years of hardship and loss morphed them into some foreign set of sapphire orbs? England began to twirl his wand in his fingers.

"I think you might be able to."

With that, England and all of his light faded until the faint glow of the angel was gone. Italy had sunk into the darkness again, but this time he wiped his tears. He clung onto Hope's thin rope as if his life depended on it.

~()~

Germany and Romano were both yelling frantically at the still Italian, shaking him. If he was breathing, they could barely tell; Feliciano's chest was incredibly stiff. They barked and yapped about him opening his eyes or at least acknowledging them. They wanted him to move or make some sort of noise, telling them that this boy on the bed had blood flowing through his viens. Germany wanted the little Italian, more than anything in the world, to make that little "Ve" noise, just once.

The only sign of life was that he was still warm.

The boy's heartbeat was so light that Romano could barely hear it. He relaxed slightly, but both were still tense. That little heartbeat could flutter itself out or just fade from earshot and cause them both to go ballistic. Germany felt like they were on a tightrope. Italy's possible passing could cause the thin rope to snap and send them to the unforgiving ground, in which only God knew what they would hit at the bottom.

Germany was completely on edge. What would he do without Italy? He imagined training sessions without him. In a sense, he longed for the ability to yell at the little Italian for not running fast enough or giving up too easily. His house would become empty and dull, lifeless compared to the everlasting energy the brunette brought along with him.

Italy glowed in Germany's eyes. He never knew what it was -nor could he find a book about it- and he never knew why it was there, it just was. Wherever Italy went, a sparkle followed. The darkness of the night would be banished by the brilliant light of Italy's natural glow. Would the glow die? At the moment, it was dimmed and flickered like a candle that was about to go out. Would Italy go out along with it?

Germany's heart lurched at the thought.

_Damn it... if only I had more time..._

The world around him faded away as he became lost in thought.

_I feel like there's something I need to say.. but I can't figure out the right words to say.. something's blocking my way.._

He could feel something that no words could describe. It was a barrier of some sort, but it was not a physical barrier. It was solid and fortified with things unknown, yet it appeared frail and breakable. It loomed in front of him. On the other side, he could see, hear, smell, and feel so many things, but they were muffled by this barrier. Everything was blurred, like a smeared painting. Streaks of auburn, green, sky blue, and white moved around on the other side. _If only I could cross it.._

With a wave of his hand, the barrier collapsed like a destroyed dam with a thick river of memory flooding out of it, overwhelming Germany. So many years of thoughts, feelings, visions, and other things passed through him in mere moments, sucking the breath out of him.

_A flash of.. Italy.. in a green dress..._

_A crudely drawn rabbit..._

_Soft hands collecting his..._

_Panties... and a deck brush..._

There was something nostalgic about it all. Thousands of small conversations sang through his ears.

"_I've loved you ever since the 900's!", he called out into the wind, "And no one can ever love you more than I do!"_

He sounded so boyish. When did he say that?

"_B-But.. I like you just the way you are.." squeaked a girl's voice._ No. It was Italy's. A very young Italy's.

A name. What was his name? He could hear soft words mumble in his ears. They were all the same, sheepishly squeaked in Italy's high voice, slightly growing deeper through out the years. Germany really noticed when his voice cracked to what it was present-day.

_Holy..._

What?

_Holy Rome..._

_Holy Roman Empire..._

_Holy Roman Empire!_

Germany let a soft gasp escape his dry lips as his cerulean orbs blinked and fluttered, Italy's bedroom forming around him again. Italy was stirring. A million things were running through Germany's head. Had he been the Holy Roman Empire this whole time? Had he lost so many years he could've spent with Italy? His heart grieved, though he didn't know why. Emotion was never his forte. He felt as if he had wasted so much time. He remembered all the nights when Italy would squeak his past name in his sleep. What had he done?

A flashback of that night filled his head. The taste of blood, dirt, and rain poured into his mouth. The smell of rotting flesh and grass filled his nose. Shouts of retreat and agony nearly blew his eardrums. A plea fluttered off of his lips as he felt his life slip away. A light. Then darkness.

That's what he did.

So much unidentified emotion welled up in Germany's chest. There was no book in any store in Europe that could help him with this crisis. Germany's heart almost stopped when Italy rose from the sheets.

~()~

Italy was blinded by the swirls of color and light when he opened his eyes. A bed morphed under him as his bedroom flooded his view. Romano and Germany were at his bedside, his brother looking completely relieved from some sort of shock. Germany's cerulean orbs were as wide as golf balls. His cheeks were turning a slightly rosy pink, causing Italy to raise an eyebrow for a moment. Both eyebrows shot up when the Italian realized what had happened moments before. He sprung from the bed right into a shocked German's arms, tears flooding from his chocolate brown eyes. "Holy Roman Empire!" He cried out, clinging tightly to Ludwig.

A spectrum of relief-like emotions fluttered through said German's chest. In turn, he wrapped his arms around Italy's small body, thanking every higher power he could think of that Feliciano was fine. He pulled away briefly to get a look at Feliciano's face. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and his nose was running. "I'm not Holy Roman Empire, anymore, Italy." He said softly. Though all of his years in the military were screaming at him to shove the smaller nation off of him and bark at him to suck it up, Germany didn't care for any of those years right now. Right now, Italy was his main focus. Italy. Italia. His love. Said person buried his face in Germany's shirt.

Romano shot the two a disapproving look but held back his urge to beat the ever living out of that potato-sucker. He knew everything that had happened -at least Italy's side of it anyway. For years, Romano would awake to Italy's cries and sobs for the young empire that had disappeared. This was closure for his brother. For the first time in his life, in all those times that Italy would hug and kiss Germany around him, Romano let them be. They needed this.

"I'm Germany, now, Italy." Ludwig whispered into Italy's ear softly. Feliciano still shook as silent sobs wracked at his body. This was no ordinary cry. It was a cry held back from hundreds of long years of longing that could finally be let loose.

"Do you think I care?" The brunette cried, his tears seeping into Ludwig's shirt, "Do you think I care who you are or who you were? Do you think I care what your name is now? You're still the same person to me, Germany, Holy Roman Empire; it's all the same. You're him, he's you, but no matter who you are today, who you were a hundred years ago, or who you are a hundred years from now, you're still my Germany; my Holy Roman Empire."

Germany felt an odd sensation in his chest. For some reason, his heart was fluttering. Or was it melting? He couldn't tell, but he tightened his grip on the Italian. He didn't even notice Romano quietly leaving the room. The boy still shook in his grip. "I've loved you ever since the 900's." He said softly and surely. Italy tensed as nostalgia hit him in waves and blushed.

"And no one could ever love you more...Feliciano." Germany added.

"I love you too, Ludwig."

~()~

**And that's it! It's done! It's finally finished~! Sorry I haven't written in a long time.. I've had 2 AP classes and an amazing girlfriend to keep up with.. ^u^**

**I hope you liked it!**

**Please review~! ^.^**


End file.
